Solo, the beginning
by MLaw
Summary: A little tale about Napoleon and his recruitment to UNCLE. Part of the Solo-Series Written for generalodin.


It was the fall of 1956, and a young Napoleon Solo had finally completed his education that had been interrupted by the Korean War. He'd enlisted during the last year and a half of the conflict and managed to survive. Coming out of it with a number of medals for bravery and the rank of Lieutenant.

His father wanted him to stay with the military but Napoleon, after losing one of his two closest friends in the war, decided a career in the army just wasn't for him. He wasn't a regimented kind of guy and was too laidback for that, much to his father's displeasure.

Napoleon Solo at the ripe old age of twenty-four now had a college degree in Sociology, but had no idea what he was going to do with himself. He had no desire to become a teacher, though that's what his mother most wanted him to be. Following in his parent's footsteps as his mom was a teacher herself, and of course dad was a career military man; neither of those things appealed to the brash young Solo.

He was feeling lost. One day as he wandered around Central Park after leaving his Aunt Amy's penthouse he contemplated what he could do with his life, but still had no answers.

"Follow your heart, dearest." His Aunt Amy had said. "An opportunity will present itself, just be open to it." She gave the best advice.

A gentleman dressed in a tweed suit and holding a Briar pipe in his mouth approached him that fateful day in the park. They struck up a conversation and it seemed to Napoleon that this man somehow knew him, though they'd never met before.

It was after several lunches at the man's private club and subsequent meetings that Alexander Waverly made Napoleon an offer he couldn't refuse. He'd been watching Solo; after seeing his military and college records, he bided his time until he felt it appropriate to approach the young man. He saw the makings of a good agent in Napoleon and wanted him to join his organization.

Perhaps this was direction Napoleon needed. He was self-assured, sociable, charming, but laid-back. Still he was straightforward and ever the optimist who rarely, if ever, gave credence to the idea that he might not ever succeed in anything he attempted. He exuded self-confidence.

He'd been momentarily sidetracked by his lack of direction, but no more. When Waverly told him about the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement...Napoleon was in like Flynn. It was exactly what he needed. It was the opportunity that Aunt Amy told him that would present itself.

From his time in Korea, he knew he could keep a cool head in life threatening situations. He also knew he wanted to do something good with his life, something that mattered and could make a difference.

Napoleon said yes in a heartbeat to Waverly's invitation and was now found himself waiting at a pier in San Francisco bay, having been given a one-way ticket for a flight from New York to California.

He had no idea where he was going other than a training facility, that's what Waverly told him. There were two dozen men there waiting as well, though they were all pretty quiet as they eyed each other up and down.

They were there for the same reason, as they'd been recruited to U.N.C.L.E. and had to pass training in order to join the top secret organization. It was explained to Solo as being multinational in makeup and international in scope, protecting and defending nations regardless of size or political persuasion.

Napoleon could practically feel the testosterone in the air. From the looks of the others waiting on the dock, he guessed they were mostly former military since some were still wearing their hair high and tight, a sure sign of a Marine.

Each of them were neatly but casually dressed, carrying nothing but duffel bags. Solo however, was wearing a suit and tie, with a small suitcase in his hand.

Their manner of dress didn't faze him at all as he was raised right and influenced by his best girl, Aunt Amy. She'd told him there was no excuse for a man not to dress well, regardless of the circumstances.

The others were giving him looks, and they began whispering among themselves and snickering. No doubt they were calling him some sort of a dandy and were laying bets that he'd be one of the first ones to washout of the program.

Napoleon merely smiled.

They were picked up for transport by a 53 ft. sailboat, a real beauty of a monohull with a ketch rig...two masts, with the shorter mast aft.

Napoleon had his own boat, small by these standards, only 30 ft, but she was a dream to handle. This boat though, he'd love to get his hands on the wheel with this one. She was a lady, aptly named the Polynesian Queen and was the real deal.

There was a full compliment of crewman on board and Napoleon wondered exactly where she was headed.

Hoisting sails, dropping or furling sails, trimming, reefing, and so on were all necessary activities that can occurred frequently over the course of a single day. The ship's compliment was adequate in an emergency, being able to put up or take down sails making a huge difference in safety, not to mention comfort and adrenaline levels.

On a large yacht the sails were huge and the loads on the sail-handling systems, the sheets and the winches enormous. He took note, as he boarded that there were electric furlers available for the head sails and both in-mast and in-boom furlers for the main. Of course there were manual reversions for anything that was otherwise electric. U.N.C.L.E. seemed to spare no expense when outfitting her.

They weighed anchor, motoring out of the bay before the sails were unfurled, and that's when she took off with a good tail wind behind her.

Napoleon went forward and positioned himself comfortably, watching a school of dolphins that were escorting them for a bit as they headed out to sea. The skies were clear, and though she looked like she could handle rough weather, he doubted if some of the other recruits would fare well. A few were already showing signs of seasickness.

They'd sailed for quite some time when the Polynesian Queen was finally brought to a stop, with the crew trimming her sails.

The boat was in the middle of nowhere in the Pacific, and for a few minutes it was a bit of a head scratcher, that was until the water began to bubble and churn nearby. They were surprised as submarine broke the surface right next to them.

Napoleon watched as a hatch opened on the sub, and crew members appeared, bringing out a gangplank, sending it across to the yacht.

"Gentlemen, if you please?" The captain of the Polynesian Queen said."The next leg of your journey awaits you."

One by one they walked the plank and boarded the sub. In a matter of twenty minutes or so they submerged; still their journey's end unknown.

For those who were claustrophobic, travelling beneath the water at around 2,000 feet in a sardine can could be pretty unnerving. Luckily none of the recruits fell into that category, and the seasickness mercifully subsided.

They were shown to the mess where they were given sandwiches and coffee, and asked to turn in their wristwatches. Solo guessed it had to do with being able to calculate the time it took to reach their next and hopefully final destination. That was top secret of course.

They all had to sign off on not revealing anything in regards to their recruitment and training whether they succeeded or failed. There were consequences should anyone break their vow of silence, though what those repercussions would be, they were never told.

Some time later the submarine surfaced and they disembarked to a pier, where they were instructed to leave their belongings. They were now on a tropical island, one that looked more like paradise than a training facility.

They made their way up from the pier along a path cut through the foliage and trees until they came to a fenced in compound, with guard towers. For a moment, it reminded Napoleon of a prisoner of war camp.

The recruits moved through the gate as it was opened for them and quickly lined up in formation. One by one a man bellowed out their names and each man acknowledged themselves.

"Welcome to the agent training facility of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, otherwise known as Survival School. I am Jules Cutter the head of this school. You are here to learn the skills that will keep your sorry asses from getting killed in the field as operatives for this organization."

To Napoleon, it seemed like a speech that this fellow Cutter had given by wrote, and was just a formality.

"Many of you have experience from your previous jobs but I tell you right here and now that doesn't mean squat! So forget any namby-pamby training that you had. Here your candy-asses are mine, and you are nothing but a blank sheet of paper for me and only me to write, on am I clear?"

There was no answer at first and he repeated loudly, "AM I CLEAR?"

Those with a military background took the lead responding,"Sir, Yes Sir!"

"Lo and behold," Napoleon thought." it was back to boot camp."

"I am not here to coddle you and to hold your hands people, so get this through those thick little skulls of yours right now. You are here to learn to survive! If you make it out into the field as agents, there will be no one to pick you up off your butts if you fall down... unless you are good enough to earn yourself a partner with this here organization!"

"You will be quartered in barracks number three. Your belongings have been brought there already and await you on your assigned bunk. Do not change that assignment. You will also find in your assigned locker khaki pants, shirts, several turtlenecks, leather gloves, sweatsuits, sneakers and cotton socks. It is your responsibility to maintain and care for your clothing as it will not be replaced for you."

"On your bunk you will find a white binder containing your training manual. You are to read it and learn it inside out. Am I clear?"

"Sir, yes sir." The men answered in unison.

"I can't hear you. Are you a bunch of pussys or what?"

"Sir NO SIR!"

Now get yourselves settled in and back here in twenty minutes dressed to run. HOP TO IT!" Cutter barked," Dismissed!"

Everyone returned, ready as instructed and were met by another man named Louis Hammersmith. Once they were lined up he gave his instructions, sounding like he too had repeated them many times before.

"We will begin with a five mile run across the island, going forward we will do this every morning a zero-five hundred hours. The course will vary each day, and it will be filled with traps and obstacles. It is your job to navigate and complete this course without getting caught. There will be days when you run in teams. You will learn to cooperate while completing the course. I warn you now, trust is not a thing to be given lightly and must be earned. At times in this course, some of your fellow recruits may or may not be instructed to work in opposition to you. You will learn to be vigilant at all times! NOW, let's go PEOPLE!"

They moved out along a path leading into the jungle and after a short distance, Hammersmith disappeared, leaving the recruits on their own to find their way, tracking through the dense growth, looking for signs telling them the way to go.

The purpose of the exercise, Napoleon surmised was to see who was in shape and who wasn't. Though running really wasn't his thing, Solo managed to stay with the pack, not really pushing himself just yet. He would bide his time doing that. Being gung ho would get him into trouble, that he knew enough from his army days.

As the days and weeks past it was clear that Napoleon Solo was the standout among the recruits in every way. The presumed peacock had set records in almost every category and graduated at the top of his class.

There was a little ceremony among the remaining graduates before they left for their assignments. Led by Jules Cutter, the men swore their oath to the U.N.C.L.E. and signed it in blood as they pricked their fingers. It was then they drank a toast.

"To the Command." Jules Cutter raised his glass. This class had done well, but it was Solo who made him the proudest. If Napoleon lived long enough, he'd go far with the organization, of that he was sure.

In 1957 Solo was assigned as a field agent to Operations and Enforcement, otherwise known as Section II in New York City.

Once there he quickly established himself as a man to be reckoned with. He'd been shown the ropes by one of the older agents, though Solo for the life of him couldn't wrap his head around the idea that forty-five was old.

That man was Nathan Saunders. UNCLE had no strict retirement rules, but that was about to change. Once a field agent hit the ripe old age of forty he would forced into mandatory retirement. There were options to stay with the organization, most of which were sitting behind a desk. Nate didn't seem to happy about that, though he didn't discuss his retirement plans.

Saunders had been grandfathered in but would be leaving the field soon of his own accord. He'd had his fair share of injuries and close calls and though the mind was willing, the body wasn't. Even he admitted that he'd stretched his luck far enough.

Unlike Nate, there weren't too many agents out there who managed to live past their fortieth year. Hence the need for constant recruitment. Younger men like Napoleon joined the ranks of UNCLE and moved up the chain of command fast enough, but not enough to suit Solo.

He'd already set his sights on the coveted position of Chief Enforcement Agent, though he had a ways to go before that happened. He still had a lot to learn.

The agent currently in that position was a man named R. Francis Vaughn who was in his early thirties. The trouble was that moving up to become CEA meant the position had to be vacant, and the only way that happened if the person holding it was killed or rendered incapable of performing his job, or reached the now newly established retirement age.

Napoleon wasn't a ruthless man, and didn't want to see any harm come to Vaughn. He could wait and was sure of himself that he knew he'd achieve his goal when the time came.

In the meantime he had a job to do as a field agent and Napoleon focused all of his energies, both physical and mental, on that.

"One thing at a time," he smiled to himself. "Well almost one thing at a time."

He had a date tonight with one of the secretaries. Tiffany was her name and she gorgeous, blonde and built like an hourglass. She had looks and intelligence as well as the ability to carry on a good conversation. That was important to him.

Though he had to dig into his slush fund to do it, he was going to show her a nice night on the town. Maybe if he was lucky...he'd get lucky?"

Napoleon had quite a success rate with his missions, so much so that people were beginning to toss around the term, 'the Solo luck.' He didn't know if that applied to his getting the girl, so to speak, but he hoped it did.

Who was he kidding, he just had to be his usual charming and flirtatious self and everything would work out just fine.

Napoleon Solo was like a kid in a candy shop with all these beautiful women working here at headquarters. He cocked his eyebrows and smiled.

He really liked this job.


End file.
